January 30, 2024 | by Peggy Shinn
Just about anyone who lives north of the Mason Dixon Line and ventures outdoors in the winter has experienced it: the dreaded frozen water bottle or hydration pack tube, leaving us to suck on popsicle-like bite valves, trying to melt a few drips of water to quench our thirst.
To keep the water flowing, I’ve tried tucking the hydration tube inside my jacket … just to have the valve drip onto my base layers. I even tried a neoprene sleeve on the tube. It just prolonged the tube’s beverage-to-ice phase by a few minutes.
And plastic water bottles are just about useless for winter workouts, even insulated ones. The nozzles, with their tight passageways for water, freeze quickly, and the bottles themselves become stiff.
Why?
Minus 4 degrees F is a relatively common winter temperature in northern climes. It’s not a pleasant temperature, but it’s not cold enough for us diehards to stay indoors and climb onto the Peloton.
I thought I had finally found a solution when I purchased my first insulated metal water bottle about a decade ago. Here finally was a vessel that would keep my beverage in a liquid state during winter workouts. All I had to do was unscrew the lid to get a drink.
It all worked fine until one evening when I was skinning up Pico Mountain. Thirsty after the first steep pitch, I pulled the bottle from my pack, unscrewed the lid, then lost my grip on the lid with my mittened hand.
Just about anyone who lives north of the Mason Dixon Line and ventures outdoors in the winter has experienced it: the dreaded frozen water bottle or hydration pack tube, leaving us to suck on popsicle-like bite valves, trying to melt a few drips of water to quench our thirst.
To keep the water flowing, I’ve tried tucking the hydration tube inside my jacket … just to have the valve drip onto my base layers. I even tried a neoprene sleeve on the tube. It just prolonged the tube’s beverage-to-ice phase by a few minutes.
And plastic water bottles are just about useless for winter workouts, even insulated ones. The nozzles, with their tight passageways for water, freeze quickly, and the bottles themselves become stiff.
Why?
Minus 4 degrees F is a relatively common winter temperature in northern climes. It’s not a pleasant temperature, but it’s not cold enough for us diehards to stay indoors and climb onto the Peloton.
I thought I had finally found a solution when I purchased my first insulated metal water bottle about a decade ago. Here finally was a vessel that would keep my beverage in a liquid state during winter workouts. All I had to do was unscrew the lid to get a drink.
It all worked fine until one evening when I was skinning up Pico Mountain. Thirsty after the first steep pitch, I pulled the bottle from my pack, unscrewed the lid, then lost my grip on the lid with my mittened hand.
With an “oh sh*t,” I watched the lid bounce back down the trail. And it just kept going until I couldn’t see it anymore. Damn. Now I had a lid-less bottle — about as useful during a workout as a juice glass.
I’ve also tried flip-top lids on my insulated bottle, but those too have frozen shut.
So my first winter sojourn with a Bivo bottle was a pleasant surprise. Even an hour into a skin up Pico, I still had water flowing from an unfrozen nozzle.
Except I shouldn’t have been surprised. Bivo nozzles are made of silicone, and silicone looks at cold temps and laughs, staying flexible even when left in the freezer for weeks (like those ice trays that make fun shapes).
Why? Because silicone’s Tg — the temperature at which it becomes firm like glass — is -125 ℃.
That’s -193 ℉ for us Fahrenheiters. And if we’re outdoors at -193 ℉, hydration is the least of our worries.
(In fact, the coldest temperature ever recorded on earth was -89.4 ℃ or -128.9 ℉ — recorded on July 21, 1983 in Antarctica. In Vermont, the coldest recorded temp was -50 ℉.)
Even if I’m crazy enough to head outdoors skiing or skinning or snowshoeing or fat biking or (gah) running at a frigid -20 ℉, I will become a popsicle before Bivo’s silicone nozzle.
But on those (rare) days, the Peloton becomes more appealing.
With an “oh sh*t,” I watched the lid bounce back down the trail. And it just kept going until I couldn’t see it anymore. Damn. Now I had a lid-less bottle — about as useful during a workout as a juice glass.
I’ve also tried flip-top lids on my insulated bottle, but those too have frozen shut.
So my first winter sojourn with a Bivo bottle was a pleasant surprise. Even an hour into a skin up Pico, I still had water flowing from an unfrozen nozzle.
Except I shouldn’t have been surprised. Bivo nozzles are made of silicone, and silicone looks at cold temps and laughs, staying flexible even when left in the freezer for weeks (like those ice trays that make fun shapes).
Why? Because silicone’s Tg — the temperature at which it becomes firm like glass — is -125 ℃.
That’s -193 ℉ for us Fahrenheiters. And if we’re outdoors at -193 ℉, hydration is the least of our worries.
(In fact, the coldest temperature ever recorded on earth was -89.4 ℃ or -128.9 ℉ — recorded on July 21, 1983 in Antarctica. In Vermont, the coldest recorded temp was -50 ℉.)
Even if I’m crazy enough to head outdoors skiing or skinning or snowshoeing or fat biking or (gah) running at a frigid -20 ℉, I will become a popsicle before Bivo’s silicone nozzle.
But on those (rare) days, the Peloton becomes more appealing.
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